E
E
Timestamp: 81st of Autumn, 514AV
It had been a while since Rosela had done all of her own shopping, even without counting the season and a half she’d…missed. Before the coma, she’d grown accustomed to her butler Courlut doing all of the shopping and didn’t particularly miss having to do it herself. With Courlut’s abrupt personality change though, she didn’t trust him in her home, let alone handling her food. As she stood in the bazaar herself, picking out potatoes, she nearly burst into tears then and there, remembering the abrupt loss of so many people in her life, many to the wretched personality changes that had taken the city.
She couldn’t cry now though, not here. Only when away from other people and in the privacy of her own home could she mourn the loss of her old life. For the time being, she simply had to put on a brave face and pretend she was in control. Paying the man, she added one of the smaller sacks on her hands to the much better one containing the potatoes. Moving slowly away from the stall, she juggled the bags between her hands, trying to find a balance in the weight.
Beef, chicken, potatoes, carrots, onions, celery, a half-gallon of milk, a pound of flour, a block of cheese, various herbs and spices… By the time Rosela was done shopping, each of her six arms ached and she felt her fingers would snap off at the knuckle. The intermittent breezes that didn’t seem to bother anyone else sent chills to her bones, only made worse by the inability to clutch her cloak closer to her body.
She started back up the street towards her home, all six arms laden with at least one bag. For the first few chimes, she desperately clung to a dignified exterior. She simple could not be seen slouching up the hill, no matter how tired she was. As she neared Christina’s Remorse though, she wind coming up off the Bluevein forced her to drop onto a bench and let the burlap sacks fall to her feet. Each hand massaged its pair, slowly flexing.
How was she supposed to make it home?
E
E
E
Timestamp: 81st of Autumn, 514AV
It had been a while since Rosela had done all of her own shopping, even without counting the season and a half she’d…missed. Before the coma, she’d grown accustomed to her butler Courlut doing all of the shopping and didn’t particularly miss having to do it herself. With Courlut’s abrupt personality change though, she didn’t trust him in her home, let alone handling her food. As she stood in the bazaar herself, picking out potatoes, she nearly burst into tears then and there, remembering the abrupt loss of so many people in her life, many to the wretched personality changes that had taken the city.
She couldn’t cry now though, not here. Only when away from other people and in the privacy of her own home could she mourn the loss of her old life. For the time being, she simply had to put on a brave face and pretend she was in control. Paying the man, she added one of the smaller sacks on her hands to the much better one containing the potatoes. Moving slowly away from the stall, she juggled the bags between her hands, trying to find a balance in the weight.
Beef, chicken, potatoes, carrots, onions, celery, a half-gallon of milk, a pound of flour, a block of cheese, various herbs and spices… By the time Rosela was done shopping, each of her six arms ached and she felt her fingers would snap off at the knuckle. The intermittent breezes that didn’t seem to bother anyone else sent chills to her bones, only made worse by the inability to clutch her cloak closer to her body.
She started back up the street towards her home, all six arms laden with at least one bag. For the first few chimes, she desperately clung to a dignified exterior. She simple could not be seen slouching up the hill, no matter how tired she was. As she neared Christina’s Remorse though, she wind coming up off the Bluevein forced her to drop onto a bench and let the burlap sacks fall to her feet. Each hand massaged its pair, slowly flexing.
How was she supposed to make it home?
E
E
